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Aided and embarrassed by friends who showed all Beaverbrook's excitement about his return to the land of the little wooden shoes, Lockhart soon found that spectators were almost more interested in his reunion with Amai than he was. He put it off as long as possible, fearing to find Amai a fat, betel-nut-chewing grandmother. He lingered in Singapore, speculated about the British Empire and colonial service, the future of the East, revolution and the consequences of the cinema lowering white prestige before the yellow races. When at last he met Amai, with his friends waiting nearby and much of the native village looking on, he found her a grave, well-preserved, attentive woman who said politely that she had heard he was rich and successful. They exchanged formal comments about their careers, and the self-conscious traveler, feeling a little ridiculous and more concerned than ever about the prestige of the white race, hurried on to visit Java, Bali, Sumatra, Macassar, and other island haunts with the passionate absorption of a middle-aged romantic who had set out in quest of his youth, found it and decided it had not amounted to much.